Subject: [PMFFML] [FFML-R] [Ranma/Ruroni Kenshin] I am Become... Epilogue
From: Brian Randall
Date: 5/24/2001, 12:12 AM
To: FFMLR

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        I am Become...

        Epilogue

    Disclaimer:  As always the paints are the property of Takahashi Rumiko, Viz video, and this time, also Nobuhiro Watsuki, who owns Ruroni Kenshin. The easel is mine, but that is all.

    Notes: Please _please_ be certain to read the first part of this story, "I am Become..." before you read this fic. Otherwise, it will make little-to-no sense. You can find it here: http://members.tripod.com/lwf58/fan_fiction/durandall/index.html

    ---------------------------

    Ennui.

    She sighed, drumming her fingers against the table, and watching her sisters closely. Something had happened, though what it was, was beyond her...

    Ranma too had been touched, dancing through a kata effortlessly over the koi pond, managing to avoid slipping in with a... a... relaxed look.

    A peaceful expression.

    She shook her head, glancing at her younger sister, staring at her pigtailed fiancee raptly.

    Shaking her head again, she turned back, watching as Ranma landed from a series of tight flips, and swept a bow towards the house -- only to slip and fall in.

    Frowning, Nabiki turned away, ignoring his now-higher pitched peals of laughter at himself as he struggled out of the pond, echoed quickly by her sisters.

    "Hey, sis?"

    The older sister looked over, a bemused smile playing across her face as Ranma set about drying himself off before entering. "Yes, Nabiki?"

    "What's going on?"

    "What do you mean?"

    "I mean, what happened? How did Ranma's father get hurt, and why is Dad acting so weird lately, and... where the heck did the old pervert go?"

    Kasumi turned somber instantly, regarding her sister frankly. "There was a fight. Saotome no Ojisan was injured, and... Grandfather Happosai moved along." Shaking her head, she rose, softness slowly seeping back into her eyes. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm afraid I have to help a friend with something." She turned towards the pair of girls -- towards Ranma and Akane, speaking in low tones on the back porch. "Ranma? Akane? Would you care to join me?"

    A light in Ranma's eyes flickered briefly, one that she had not seen in the pigtailed martial artist's face before. A light that spoke of confidence, strength... of... tranquility. She blinked, thinking for a moment that it was mirrored in her sisters' eyes, but then vanished.

    Ranma nodded, pulling his shirt on while Akane whispered something that caused him to glower at her sharply, and stick his tongue out.

    She turned away, already knowing what happened next, and pushing the image from her mind. "So," she addressed her father, not catching the lack of ensuing violence that she had somehow expected, "Can you tell me what's going on?"

    The man shook his head, his eyes seeming distant. "I suppose, Nabiki, that they've grown up a bit." He amended a moment later, smiling at her, "I suppose we all did. Come, Nabiki, let's say hello to your mother."

    She sighed, hanging her head. He would be insistent, and fall apart, and weep and wail, and... "Sure, Daddy. Let's go." Maybe if they were to hurry, he would finish weeping before dinner.

    ***

   Scattered pebbles flung,
Sweep wide across the pond, and
     Come home far apart.

    ---------------------------
    Author's Notes:
    That haiku, I believe, summarizes things quite well.

    I don't really know what prompted this, what was originally a spamfic on, "What if we expand on the 'Kasumi is a closet-super-power cliche,' and make her the battousai!" somehow turned into a treatise on something entirely different.

    *sigh*

    I apologize, because this story is both a good and a bad thing. Because of this story, my friend, Durandall... is gone.

    Studying the yin and the yang within this story has allowed me to finally lay one of my own ghosts to rest, and I suppose that I'm as complete as someone with disassociative identity disorder _can_ be now, but... I'll miss Durry.

    So thanks to everyone who helped me along this road, as confusing as it is, and to Durandall, my friend... goodbye.

    Any questions or comments can be directed to me.

-- 
Haiku of my lament:

Forgive my spelling,
my U.S. education,
is the source of blame.


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